


Matchmaker, Matchmaker, He is a Cat

by Blue_Robin



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran is a goofball, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ossie is a bit of a matchmaker, Robin is a saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Robin/pseuds/Blue_Robin
Summary: Robin is house sitting for the Herbert's and Cormoran has been invited to dinner.





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker, He is a Cat

**Author's Note:**

> After writing "The End" I decided I needed something fluffy to end my day on, so I went hunting for a prompt to help me get back into the fluffy frame of mind. 
> 
> The first three lines are the prompt I found. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“I’m trapped”

“Just push the cat off your lap.”

“No, absolutely not, I’m not a _monster_.”

“Honestly Cormoran…he’ll hop down and go find his brother and then you can get your own beer.” Robin rolled her eyes at her partner.

“But I just got him to actually _like_ me Robin. If I push him off me he’ll start hating me again.”

“Oh, he will not.”

“He will too. It took almost three years before he’d let me pet him.” Cormoran widened his eyes at her as he nodded, hoping it would sell the tiny fib a little bit better.

Her narrowed eyes and tightened lips dashed those hopes.

“He’s sleeping Robin. I can’t wake him. Please will you bring me another beer?” He wasn’t above begging.

He started a bit at the unexpected thunk on the table next to him but grinned his best crinkly eyed grin at her as he reached for the beer she’d just placed there. “You’re a saint.”

“I’m guessing we’re eating our dinner in there too?” He could hear the plates and cutlery rattling as she picked them up from the dining table.

“Even I know you should never wake a sleeping cat Robin.” He swigged his beer and then bit his lip to keep from guffawing at the mutinous expression on her face as she laid out the plates and tableware on the coffee table in front of him.

“It’s ‘Never wake a sleeping baby’ you idiot.” And she practically stomped off to get the takeout containers.

“Did I tell you thanks for inviting me over?” He rolled his head back against the back of the couch, trying to get a glimpse of her bustling around behind him.

She was so pretty tonight, in her slouchy blue jumper and black leggings. He’d especially enjoyed seeing her socks, pulled over the ends of her leggings. They were mismatched, one green and the other a hot pink. She’d shrugged in response to his grin when he’d seen them. “Who has time to match socks? No one sees them most of the time, and anyone who does see them won’t care.”

He hadn’t been able to fault her logic, but also hadn’t been able to resist teasing her a bit more. “You don’t have to match them when you get ones that are all black and all white.”

“Yeah…but then you wouldn’t have anything to tease me about.”

He’d laughed in acknowledgement as he’d lowered himself to the couch, where he’d promptly been trapped by Ossie, the cat belonging to his and Robin’s mutual friends Nick and Ilsa Herbert. Robin, having been a house guest of the Herbert’s for a brief period after she’d left her husband Matthew last year, and therefore familiar with the routines of Ossie and his brother Ricky, had been asked if she’d house sit while Nick took Ilsa on a much deserved second honeymoon. She’d been happy to do so and had informed Cormoran earlier that day that just because Nick and Ilsa were away didn’t mean they weren’t still going to have their monthly curry night.

“No. You didn’t,” she answered with a slight pout.

He caught her eyes as she dished a serving onto his plate. “Thank you for inviting me Robin.”

She flushed and looked away, using the food as an excuse to evade his eyes.

She finished serving them both and then, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to lean forward with the cat still trapping him she handed him his plate and fork and with a wicked glint in her eyes leaned over and tucked a napkin in the open collar of his button down.

Her fingers brushed against and lingered a moment on his chest. He felt the edge of her nails rasp ever so slightly against his skin. Her fingers were warmer than usual, probably due to the food containers being warm.

She’d started touching him more and more frequently over the last few months. Her hand coming to a rest on his forearm, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, as she talked about cases with him in the pub after work. Her arm occasionally threading through his as they walked down the street heading toward the Tube station that would take her back to her shared flat in Earl’s Court.

Twice now she’d hugged him. Once as he’d been about to leave her at the Tube, a week ago and then tonight when she’d answered the door here.

She sat back and pulled her own plate into her lap, forking up a bite of the spicy chicken and blowing on it before sliding it between her lips. Her eyes were on the telly, BBC One broadcasting the evening news.

They were silent as they ate, watching the news reports.

Silence was easy with Robin.

As usual he finished his food before she finished hers, however he was still unable to move due to Ossie still contentedly snoozing in his lap. Just as he was about to break the silence and ask if she could take his plate her hand appeared, removing his plate from his hand and replacing it with her plate which still had about a quarter of her portion of rice and chicken on it.

He grinned and picked up her fork, finishing it off in a few quick bites.

She took the plate and stacked it on top of the other, and stood, scooping up the closed curry container from the table and carrying them to the kitchen. All without a word.

Only a small smile that matched the one he could feel lifting his own lips.

He reached for his beer bottle and swigged down the last swallow, then turned his head to ask her if she’d kindly bring him another, only to feel a cold bottle pressed to his other shoulder. He tilted his head back to give her a mock glare only to find her watching him, her blue eyes intent.

He stayed like that, head tilted against the cushions, trapped by the intensity in her eyes.

She leaned over and set her full wine glass down, with a click, on the table next to him, before resting her forearms against the back of the couch, her face hovering next to his. She was so close he could see the striations of grey around her blue irises, the light freckles that were hidden by the darker ones scattered across her nose and the rise of her cheeks.

He stopped breathing as he realized that if they both turned their heads their lips would touch.

“Robin…” he started, turning his head slightly toward her.

His lips met hers, barely.

The fuller parts of her lips rested against the fuller parts of his.

Neither of them pressed closer.

But neither did they pull apart.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he felt her lips move slightly and his eyes slid closed as he felt her tongue lick delicately across her own lips, the tip of it grazing his.

On a groan he lifted a hand to the back of her head and arched his neck, pressing closer, opening his mouth to allow her tongue to sweep inside, allowing his to explore her.

She’d wrapped her right arm around his shoulder, her hand slid into his hair, tightening, drawing his head back and pressing him closer to her.

He groaned as she pulled slightly away. His body shifting slightly toward her, anxious for more of her taste, to feel more of her skin.

“Ow…SHIT!” He jolted as needles pierced his thighs. Digging in with a vengeance.

Ossie screeched at him as he jumped from his lap and raced from the room in a streak of black and white fur.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he glared after the cat, before turning the glare on the giggling woman standing behind him.

He snaked a hand out and snatched her wrist, tugging her closer until he could drag her still snickering form over the back of the couch so that she was sprawled on his lap, replacing the cat who’d trapped him most of the evening.

“Where were we?” he asked as he kissed her grin and allowed his hands to slide under her jumper to see if the skin hidden beneath it was as smooth and soft as he’d fantasized.


End file.
